


Hoshi no Ame

by Wakahisa_S



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4279353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wakahisa_S/pseuds/Wakahisa_S
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Originally known as "Stuck in your Finder" by Ariard] </p><p>Takaba's debt to Asami is paid off when he bargains his son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 一 | ichi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Takaba and Asami meet for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a revamp of my original story, which was full of flaws and had terrible English in it.  
> A lot of y'all have read my story, but now it's better and my updates will be a lot more frequent (this is my first time updating since 2015.)  
> I will update the next chapter tomorrow.  
> 

Seventeen-year-old Takaba Akihito arrived home late from a stressful day at his part-time job. As a junior employee under Yamazaki-san, the older man had given him an abundance of reports and complaints to file. Three band-aids on his fingers were proof of his lack of attention. Every time he clenched his hands, the cuts began to sting painfully. It served as a reminder. There were worst jobs to perform, he was grateful he had this one. Looking at the bland sky Takaba sighed, watching his warm breath dissipate slowly into the atmosphere. He was tired, so tired. He wondered if things were ever going to get better.

On his way home he made a quick trip to a convenience store. The employee barely regarded him as he rung his extensive order of ingredients for an oyakodon, enough to ensure leftovers for as long as he needed. As his shopping came to a whopping 3,200 Y Takaba reluctantly handed over his pocket money. He tucked the bags in the crease of his elbows and made his way back into the cold. The fifteen minutes that passed on the way home were filled with nothing but lingering background sounds that blend together into a silent sort of pink noise. The terribly conditioned apartment complex he and his father lived in came into view, recognized by its paint-chipped exterior and twisted railings that provided a safety hazard. It always made him ashamed to return to their poor way of living. When he compared it to the nuclear homes of Kou and Takato he couldn’t help but feel embarrassment and disappointment.

Each step leading to the fourth floor produced a static creak. A sound he was certainly used to by now. A small breeze wafted over the back of his head, carrying the saturated smell of cigarettes with it. He could hear two men chuckling as they climbed the stairs behind him. He felt it was misplaced but couldn’t stop the wild pounding of his heart and flickers of fear that overcame all rational reasoning.

Trying the balance the bags on both arms, the teen struggled to get the key out of his pocket before the men were on the same floor. His hands trembled and he fumbled with the key before managing to unlock his apartment door. The strangers didn’t acknowledge him as they walked past, a strong smell of alcohol trailing behind them.

Of course, the apartment was pitch black. It didn’t surprise him the bills hadn’t been paid, nor that his father was out wallowing neck deep in sake and whatever money he’d manage to gamble. Still, he called out for his father after removing his shoes, checking all the rooms in their home. Met with silence he placed the bags on the kitchen floor of their 1LDK apartment. The piercing reality of being alone always seemed to anger him, no matter how hard he tried to endure it. Being left alone always, for so long was difficult.

He jabbed the wall, ignoring the stinging before he kicked it and rested his head on the painted drywall. Drinking, gambling, scamming...his actions were going to catch up to him sooner or later. The man was kind, he was sweet and tolerant and _tried._ Takaba under stood that and as much as he loved his father and would do almost anything for him, he did not want to pay the consequences of his actions. It was heartbreaking to feel helpless as his dad destroyed himself because he felt he had little reason to live or love anymore.

The trip down memory lane didn’t do anything for his already soured mood. He focused on finding candles and a flame source to lit the gas stove. Easily enough, there were small fist-sized candles in the bathroom and matches under his dad’s futon. He took care to lit the candles and prepare the basics before he carefully ignited the gas stove.

The dish finished in an hour. He scarfed his bowl down, feeling the need for seconds but aware of not being able to afford another meal until the end of the month. He nibbled on a few grains of rice as he placed the leftovers in the mini freezer he had connected to someone else’s power source on their patio. The dishes took a little time to finish, and he buried himself in his dad’s futon.

He only let himself think a little before falling asleep.

* * *

A week had flown by and the evidence of his father’s absence was starting to take a toll on Takaba. The worst scenarios came to mind: beaten, dead, dying. He bit his nails down to their cuticles, gnawing at the dry skin on his lips as he attempted to focus on work.

He considered filing a missing person report with Yamazaki but panicked when he thought of child services stepping in. What little reputation they had would be tarnished. They would strip him from his father’s care and possibly from his friends. He kept to himself, ignoring Yamazaki when he began to grow weary of his employees' distracted behavior.

Kou and Takato each offered up their own homes. He accepted food and the occasional bit of change either of them had, but never anything more. At the end of the day, it might not have been anything too serious. Maybe his dad was at a friend’s or trying to get his shit together. Maybe he’d been home the entire time and left so that Takaba wouldn’t know.

But that was beside the point.

He didn’t bother uttering a greeting, knowing no one would answer. He was bothered by Yamazaki sending him home early on a Saturday when the station was most busy and papers piled high enough for a bit of overtime. Yes, his mind was muddled with a few distracting thoughts, but it wasn’t affecting his work ethic. Not really.

Going over today’s events he hadn’t even noticed the power was back on, or the massive presence in their living space. He sighed and threw his coat to the side.

“Welcome back,” came a weak voice. Takaba’s ear picked up on the sound as a wave of emotions came over him, starting with relief and ending with anger. He furrowed his brows and took a deep breath before entering the living room.

“Dad, where were y–” He cut himself off examining the scene before him.

His dad sat in the middle of the room, head hanging low and hands on his knees. Three men stood behind him, all wearing suits and staring at him. One of the men wearing glasses walked toward the teen, noticing how he visibly flinched and shuffled out of the way, before blocking the doorway. The tallest one, a hulking blonde made to block the patio entrance as the last one with sharp eyes and slicked black hair came to stand directly behind his father, smirking the entire time.

“What. The. Hell.” Takaba uttered, slowly backing himself into a wall.

His father tightened the hold on his sweats and sobbed, “Akihito, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please –” he turned to look up at the smirking man and grabbing at his slacks with a ferocious sort of desperation. “Asami-sama, _please_ not my son.”

Seeing his dad’s face in the light cause the teen to turn white. An overwhelming amount of bile was stuck in the back of his throat as he continued to stare. A grotesque, twisted gathering of charred and swollen flesh amounted to what his father looked like. A mass of deformity that made him sick to his core. He was surprised the man was still able to talk, much less see.

The man with the sharp eyes, Asami, kept his eyes on the teen as he delivered a painful kick to the older Takaba’s head. The older man writhing on the floor and releasing a monument of screams as he grabbed his bleeding face. A piece of flesh fell from his face and the teen lost control over the contents of his stomach. Unable to make it to the toilet he vomited all over the floor, continuously dry heaving until he felt well enough to snatch a towel off the floor and crawl to the side of his still screaming father.

Tears streaked down his face as he willed the older man to still as much as possible and move his hands. Blood and puss trickled down the side of his face as his eyes struggled to open. Takaba couldn’t manage to withhold the horrified sobs as he covered his dad’s face with the towel and pressed down on it lightly. The older man’s hands came up to grasp his wrists tightly, squeezing them reassuringly.

“Do you know who I am, Akihito?” Asami asked, causing goosebumps to rise on Takaba’s arms.

Takaba knew what was going on. The only people in Japan who he had desperately prayed never to cross paths with now stood in his apartment and his dad was the cause, “You’re Yakuza.”

Asami nodded, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his inner pocket. He lit one and let out a long exhale of smoke, “Do you know why I’m here?”

“He can’t pay you back, so you’re going to kill us,” Takaba answered, trembling as he flipped the towel over so that the puss wouldn’t crust and stick the fabric to his dad’s face.

Asami let out a slow chuckle, inhaling and exhaling while staring him down. “I was going to kill him until I found out he had a seventeen-year-old son.”

Takaba screwed his eyes shut, trying not to linger on the reason he might have included his age. “You want me to pay back the debt? I-I...how much is it? I can pay it back, I just need some ti–” he was suddenly cut off by Asami dropping the cigarette and tightening his lips. His expression appeared much more sinister than before and the tension in the room intensified.

Asami stepped over the squirming man’s body, yanking the boy out of his father’s grasp. “Unless you have four million yen in your pocket, you won’t be paying me back like that.”

“Let go,” Takaba winced. His body shook at the implication hoping he was wrong, “what does that even mean?”

“For someone with your academic marks,” Asami drawled, “you’re very slow.”

This had to be a prank, a terrible disgusting prank that someone thought was funny. He almost started laughing and he would have too if he wasn’t being dragged out of their apartment right now by the giant blonde that seemed to lack any semblance of gentleness.

“Where are you taking me?” Takaba asked, breathless. “What about my dad? Dad? Dad! Dad, stop them! I know you’d never do this to me!” The man removed the towel from his face, the bleeding mostly stopped. He reached a hand outwards and mouthed a couple words before slumping onto the floor.

“Dad!” Takaba screamed, kicking and fussing, “Dad, Dad _please_ , don’t do this!”

The blonde grunted, shifting his hold of the kid, “Stop moving brat.”

A black Lexus LS sat patiently outside the complex, engine running with the man wearing glasses in the driver’s seat. Takaba’s heart sped up as they got closer to the car. Fuck, this was real. It was really real. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what he could do.

Asami paced himself behind them, sliding in first when the man wearing glasses got out to open the door for him. Takaba let his eyes flicker from the car to the apartment door which remained ajar. The blonde released one hand to open the door for him, but right as he was being pushed in he heard his name loud and clear, catching the attention of everyone present.

“Akihito!” His dad yelled, using the railing to support himself. He looked as if he was about to fall over any moment but from his stance, Takaba knew he was strong enough. His dad wobbled upwards, trying to stand proud and tall as he threw a shoe at the man holding his son and screamed from the top of his lungs: “Run!”

Takaba didn’t need to be told twice.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Buy me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/wakahisa)   
>  [Check me out on Wattpad!](https://www.wattpad.com/user/Wakahisa-)


	2. 二 | ni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the initial meeting.

Someone was following him.

It wasn't hard to make out the consistent slap of rubber soles against concrete beneath the wild beating of his heart; the hurried swallows of saliva down his throat as it echoed in his ears. He slid down a hill into a narrow river, ignoring the goosebumps that riddled his flesh as he submerged himself and rose, finding footing on loose rocks below. Whoever it was lingered on the edge of the hill, checking their surroundings while careful not to slip. Teeth chattering, he pulled his drenched body out and climbed upwards, making a dash for it when he reached the other side. The residential area was quiet, homes at peace in the pitch of night. Besides the sound of the river and homely noise, he couldn't hear much of anything, including whoever was following.

Coming to a dead street across from a vast open field, Takaba took a minute to catch his breath. Cold and frightened, anxiety was beginning to overcome the adrenaline in an attempt to surface, warning of a possible unexpected encounter from any angle. His suspicion was beginning to intensify. He pushed the worry aside though, choosing to as far from the city lights as possible.

He couldn't help the constant paranoia he displayed, looking over his shoulders every few seconds. Takaba was aware he didn't have enough energy to carelessly run. He hadn't had anything to eat for hours and was just as thirsty. A headache was starting to kick in, a pain which increased every time he looked over his shoulder.

He thought back to when his father told him to run after he revealed his swole, puss-ridden, beaten face. The croak of his cries as he begged for understanding still rang in his head. The teen held back a scoff. He was worried but pissed as well. Someone he trusted with his life had put him through hell and high-water, only to put a cherry on top of it all. The reflection made Takaba feel the urge to cry, he sort of wanted to die, the events that had just taken place still seemed unreal. It was just...implausible.  
Lost in his own thoughts, Takaba had stopped listening to his surroundings, forgetting to look behind him. He stopped to massage his cramping calves when bright lights blinded his vision and sent him stumbling backward, elbows skinned in the process.

He knew it was a car from the high beams, and he had a good idea of who was inside. A man stepped out, long coat draped over his shoulders as he fiddled with something in his hands. Takaba held a hand up, unable to get a look at the object or their face. They took slow, calculating steps towards his soaked, shaking body and Takaba felt now was the time to run. He hurried to his feet, ignoring the dull pain shooting up his arms, panting wildly. He was stopped midway when a bullet bounced next to him, and again right next to his ear.

He screamed the second time, frozen in fear. Petrified and unable to run, the man hurried his stride, bending low so that Takaba could make out striking amber eyes, almost gold with the way the high beams came into play. The man reached out - causing the teen to flinch - and grasped his face painfully. The muzzle of the gun was cold on his already clammy skin. Takaba screwed his eyes shut when it began to travel downwards, from his face to his nipples, and back up again. His breathing was ragged and quick, unable to stop himself was expelling traits of someone who was scared - terrified.

They exchanged no words. Just angered, sharp gazes and brown doe-like eyes filled with fear. The car continued to run, the headlights continued to slightly blind the teen, and he was stuck in such an unnerving situation.

"Stop," Takaba rushed out when the muzzle went far too low for comfort, "please."

Asami hummed politely, raising the metal off his skin and removing his hand. Takaba bit his cheeks in an effort to massage his bruised jaw without touching it. He glanced at the yakuza every few seconds, wondering if he should gradually back up some, or if it would be noticeable.

He found his neck exposed shortly after the thought passed, head jerked back forcefully as a hand grasped a fistful of hair. He hissed, hands flying up to remove the hold on his hair when the gun aimed for his temple, hammer cocked and all.

"Takaba," Asami said, "I'm disappointed."

Fuck. He didn't know what to do, or what to say. Instead, he abided with shallow pants and a wild stare. He could feel sweat pouring out, a sense of dizziness seemingly about to overcome him. Three words and he felt he knew his fate. He shouldn't have run. He shouldn't have gotten caught.

Asami bore his eyes onto Takaba's face, watching patiently as the boy refused to avert his own.

The man glared - anger evident. Takaba trembled then, only exaggerated when the barrel of the gun moved over to the tip of his left shoulder. The yakuza tapped the bone a couple times, a huff of air expelled from his nose akin to a sigh. The sight was almost laughable if it wasn’t for the muzzle being pressed tightly against his skin. The boy knew instantaneously what was about to happen.

"Please," Takaba choked, "do-!"

The man fired a clean shot through his shoulder blade, the bullet clinking on the pavement behind them.

Takaba let out another brutal scream, an agony akin to being burned alive bloomed immediately. Grasping the bleeding wound as tears streamed down his face, he bent over himself, crying with the force of someone dry heaving. The pain was almost unbearable - more powerful, more surreal than anything else ever felt in his entire life. Hot blood streamed down his front and back, with every passing second he felt lightheaded. He looked up to find the face of that man that shot him without hesitation but saw nothing more than the blinding glare of the headlights.

Asami remained stoic, lifting the teen and carrying him over to the vehicle. The man in glasses was waiting patiently by the door, only holding it when they both slid inside. Takaba found himself unable to concentrate on the fact that he was going whenever this man planned on taking him. He clenched his shoulder, trying to apply pressure and numb the throbbing as much as possible.  
Takaba could still feel the bullet passing through him, the soft _fwip_ as the trigger was pulled resonated in his mind. He had to be dying; it felt like death. Blood covered his hand completely, dripping down the soaked fabric of his clothing and onto the upholstery. His vision seemed to swarm, and suddenly the car was moving. Asami's grip on him didn't loosen in the slightest.  
  
Takaba could feel his bawling cease into sniffling as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell out of consciousness.  
  


* * *

 

Shinjuku had never looked more hauntingly beautiful as rain pitter-pattered on the rooftops of high rise buildings.

  
 Asami sat across from Takaba in a pair of comfortable sweats, indulging in alcohol while reading. The penthouse was utterly dark, save for the city glow that washed over the yakuza's face. Damp hair hung over his forehead in thin strands, jaw squared but soft. His button-down was slightly open at the top, tie hanging off the arm of the couch. The scene sent a shiver down the teens back as he followed the movement of those dark eyes, plastered with gold flecks, waves of pseudo-disgust and confusion enveloping the teen’s small frame. He curled up on the seat opposite Asami, with the other man's long coat draped scandalously across his nude torso, the cold finally setting in. But he didn't want to leave yet. He found it hard to get over the sight before him as if every raw aspect and a bit of primal nature were shown at this moment and only this moment. Asami was the most frightening when he was quiet.

Takaba knew he would never forget what this man was.

He turned his attention to the rain again, watching the pace fluctuate between fast and slow. His shoulder had been cleaned and wrapped, apparently. Wrapped tightly, it throbbed, warm under his fingertips. But the pain was dull compared to before. It was almost as if nothing had happened.

Almost.

The man made no move to acknowledge Takaba's current state of consciousness. Everything was dead silent, save for the rain. Goosebumps riddled his arms and chest. He closed his eyes again, dipping his head even lower and hoping to fall asleep. The memory of being shot resurfaced. He remembered clear as day the anger that went far beneath the facade Asami portrayed and shivered again. He was scared. If the man could shoot him, he would do much worse. Takaba promised to do anything to return home. No cost too high.

A rumble of thunder plundered through the sky. Takaba sat suddenly, ignoring the pain shooting through his shoulder. He stretched and yawned, pretending as if his heart was beating violently. The thunder has roused some sentient fear from his childhood. How embarrassing. He abandoned the coat by throwing it on the floor, wandered over to the door and tried to open it. It wouldn't budge. He looked for some sort of locking mechanism only to realize the door was keycard accessible only.

Takaba fought hard not to lash out at anything or _anyone_ in the room. Alarm rose in his chest, making it hard to breathe. The realization hit harder than expected. He found himself sinking down the wall onto the floor, sick to his stomach and light headed. Takaba was as trapped as he felt, with the man responsible for putting his father well within an inch of his life, and for shooting the teen in the shoulder – for only God knows what.

“Sick bastard,” Takaba whispered disdainfully, making sure the yakuza wasn’t able to hear. As upset and panicked as he was the last thing he wanted to do was elicit a response. Tears of frustration welled in the corners of eyes, but he wiped them away before they could spill over. His quiet sniffling seemed to ricochet in the penthouse, grabbing Asami’s attention.  

“Akihito, come here.” The man commanded, reclining as far as possible into the cushions of the couch. The order seemed to frighten the teen and pressure him to slink as far into the shadows – as much as possible. Moments of silence passed by with only the sound of the rain impinging on the stationary windows. Takaba felt viable to choke on the tension with each passing second.

He slowly inched forward, curiosity prone to kill him thus far. The suspense was bound to kill him before Asami did.

Asami sat still, legs spread apart adequately with splashes of assorted colors flickering across his face. He appeared detached in that instant. Takaba felt sick to his stomach with the realization that he _liked_ what he was seeing; that fractions and specks of arousal lingered with every passing thought. Regardless of the recognition, he inched closer and closer, if not to get a better look at the man before him.

The suddenness of a hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling hard panicked Takaba. He was unprepared. Asami and he were centimeters apart, their noses brushing one another’s. He could smell alcohol on the older man’s breath, an almost deep and rich smell that had the teen pulling back when he found himself getting too close.

In the darkness, neither one could clearly see the other’s face. Takaba’s flamed cheeks weren’t visible to the older man, but his entire body seemed to heat in response, and Asami smirked knowingly.

“What do you want?” Takaba tried to spit harshly, but it was delivered pathetic and weak.

Asami remained quiet for a period of time before speaking, “The question is, Akihito, what do _you_ want?”

“Let go of me!” He tried yanking his wrist out of the other’s hold, failing. “You know exactly what I want!”

Asami nodded, “I do know what you want, and I’m sure you understand why you can’t have it. I’m offering a compromise.”

Takaba frowned then, hissing, “What compromise? You haven’t offered a damn thing! You shot me without reason!”

“And I’m sure you won’t bother running again. I let you off lightly,” Asami hummed thoughtfully, “the compromise is that you may ask for whatever you want, whatever you need within reason – as long as you offer up something of equal value.”

“I don’t have anything to give you that you’d want,” Takaba whined, pulling away with more force but failing once more. “I can’t give…you…” his eyes slowly widened in horror at the implication. “You’re sick! Don’t touch me!”

Asami smirked, eyes twinkling then. He grasped both wrists and pinned the teen down next to him. Takaba kicked and shouted, twisted and bucked to no avail. He laid dead still as Asami loomed over him with fierce, sharp eyes and a rather perverse appearance.

“You came to that conclusion yourself, Akihito.” He tightened his grip, “I never indicated anything of the sort.”

The teen glared, “But you know exactly what I’m talking about, sick bastard. You know what I’m tal –” he was cut off, taken off guard when Asami pressed his torso flush against Takaba’s groin. A slight bit of friction seemed to get to the teen, who couldn’t help but let out a desperate mewl, “N-No…”

“Would it be so terrible if I were referring to whatever’s on your mind?” Asami whispered in his ear.

The friction was teasing; slow and seemingly ‘accidental’ but warm and solid. Takaba could feel tears welling in the corners of his eyes as he felt himself growing hard. He tried pushing the older man off him, arching his back slightly and lifting his hips with as much force as he could possibly manage but the attempt proved futile, only worsening his shame.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” the words warmly ghosted over the lobe of his ear and he whined.

“You’re forcing me…” His breathing stuttered ever so slightly, barely noticeable. Takaba clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, trying to ignoring the rupture of sensations he was experiencing. “You’re making me r-r-react this way. Please, stop.”

“Your body seems interested, even if you say you’re not.” Asami continued smirking, rising slightly. Takaba was well aware the older man could feel how hard he was from just friction. He couldn’t bring himself to look up. Anywhere. Anywhere besides those goddamn eyes that seemed to know everything about him. His chest heaved up and down, breathing rapid and stammered. Asami loosened his grip and the teen pulled his hands close to him, paralyzed from those few flashes of shame.

The _shame_.

“I’m looking forward towards it.” The older man softly spoke before rising and leaving the area. Takaba didn’t care where he went. He was preoccupied with the events that had just taken place. He was alone, in a dark place, aroused, cold, and ashamed.

So ashamed.


End file.
